


Proposal

by Deepdarkwaters



Series: Bespoke [15]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-18 14:42:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9389591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deepdarkwaters/pseuds/Deepdarkwaters
Summary: It's the middle of the night when they ask Eggsy to move in, and everyone's a bit too tired to be thinking clearly. Whenever they remember it later, it's got the woozy, faded quality of a half-forgotten dream.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VioletSmith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletSmith/gifts).



It's the middle of the night when they ask Eggsy to move in, and everyone's a bit too tired to be thinking clearly. Whenever they remember it later, it's got the woozy, faded quality of a half-forgotten dream.

Merlin's halfway to dozing in his armchair, empty whisky glass dangling from his fingertips an inch or two above the carpet, and across the room Eggsy's got Harry hauled over his lap on the bed: stroking gentle, adoring fingertips across the glowing golden stretch of his sweating back, dipping into the dimples at the bottom and the long, twisting indentation of his spine as Harry squirms.

"You ticklish?"

"No." Harry sounds a second away from sleep, warm and lazy. "Greedy is more the word. Don't you dare stop."

Merlin rouses slightly at their voices, opening his eyes and sitting up straighter to stretch out the ache in his neck. Eggsy glances over at the movement, and there's something sated and soft in his eyes, a kind of openness that only shows when he's been with Harry. When he's still with Harry. He smiles, slow and lovely - the gorgeous blooming confidence of knowing he belongs exactly where he is - and cocks his head in a gesture that Merlin knows by now means _you wanna come here?_

Instinct almost makes him say no; he says no more often than not. Usually slips out of the room to let them sleep, unaccustomed to sharing a bed with so many limbs and the extraordinary heat that somehow seems to radiate from Eggsy under the covers. Instead he sets his glass down and crosses to the other side of the bed, manoeuvring Harry's prone body until he's stretched naked across both of their laps and wriggling, gasping, at the extra set of wandering fingers tracing swirling lines across his skin. Merlin feels Eggsy beside him, the warm pressure of his thigh in the worn old silk pyjamas he always steals from Harry's drawer when he stays over, and something makes him want to touch: reach out for Eggsy's chin, rub a gentle thumb across the gold flecks of stubble there, hold him still, lean over to press a lingering kiss against the open surprise of his pretty pink mouth.

"What's that for?" Eggsy says when he's released, giddy and bewildered. "I mean like I ain't complaining or nothing."

"What did I miss?" Harry wheedles, cracking one eye open and trying to twist back to look at them both until Merlin starts stroking his hair, urging him to settle. Beside him, Merlin feels Eggsy shifting closer, then the heaviness of the boy's head lolling cautiously against his shoulder until he realises he's not going to be shrugged away and begins to relax properly.

"Merlin kissed me."

"Oh, did he?" Harry sounds delighted, child on Christmas morning. "Good, lovely."

"Shut up, Harry," Eggsy says; the unabashed fondness in his voice might be nauseating were it not so completely genuine. His fingers dance their way up Harry's spine, scratching gently over the flecked remains of the red flogger marks Merlin left there earlier until Harry's squirming over their laps making faint hungry little noises. "Thought you were going to sleep."

"Not here. My poor old back." He kisses Merlin's leg clumsily through the padding of the duvet, and when he speaks again his tone's turned mischievous. "Merlin's poor old knees."

"Yeah right, like there's anything poor and old about either of you," Eggsy says, laughing, at the same time as Merlin delivers a vicious retaliatory pinch to Harry's bare backside. Probably not the wisest idea, knowing Harry's reaction to pinches, but he really does seem to be tired: he muffles a pleased murmuring noise in the covers and goes obediently still again for so long that Merlin thinks he might actually have fallen asleep.

"Up," he says, quiet but firm. "You can't sleep there."

Eggsy's gentler, of course; he always is. "Come on, babe," he coaxes softly, "you wanna get your pyjamas on?"

He gets up when Harry does, scrambling out of bed to choose pyjamas for him and then dress him. He's almost reverent in the way he slides his hands down Harry's shoulders to smooth out the creases of the folded shirt, nimble fingers fastening the little buttons from the lowest one to the lapels at his sternum. Merlin misses his warmth, and it's an interesting realisation to have, even as he's watching them: something to fiddle with and turn over and inspect like a new piece of technology.

They settle back into bed, Harry steering Eggsy to take the spot in the middle and then arranging himself against the boy's side with his long, lovely fingers stroking the sweaty blond hair back off his forehead. Breathless and alight with smiling, Eggsy stays still and lets him play and goes cross-eyed trying to track Harry's movements, and Merlin watches them both with something hot and wanting flickering inside his stomach: not the desire to do anything, not even to see _them_ do anything like earlier, but to possess them both like hoarded treasure.

Over Eggsy's shoulder Merlin sees Harry's eyes move: they find him, pinning him like one of the butterflies in the bathroom, and he knows Harry knows. Sees the crease of soft smile lines appear at the outside corners, as understandable as telepathy after so many years. _Yes_ , Harry says without sound, _do it_ , so Merlin leans closer to Eggsy in between them, the furnace-heat of his body, and traces a line of easy kisses up the back of his neck.

"Stay," he murmurs. He feels Eggsy trembling under the arm he slips across his body, and Harry's thudding heartbeat in two places at once: caught in the shuddering pendant under his t-shirt, and vibrant against the palm he presses to Harry's chest.

"Yeah," Eggsy says, whispers, sounding stunned and giddy caught there between them and looking from Harry's face, happily besotted, to Merlin's, displaying god knows what kind of naked emotions. Something that seems to please him, anyway. "I'm here, I ain't going nowhere."

"Move your things in when you're back from your Bruges mission."

"I dunno," Eggsy says, "depends if I'm allowed a say on how many dead animals we got framed on our toilet wall"--but from the way he squirms so insistently back against the curve of Merlin's body and the undisguised delight in his voice, he's already made up his mind.


End file.
